


Read Me a Memory

by aeris7dragon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeris7dragon/pseuds/aeris7dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing the events that followed The Signless' execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Read Me a Memory

**  
_read me a memory, tell me a tale  
speak of wondrous adventures, together we'll sail  
off to forests enchanted and lands far away  
fairies and kings and magical rings_   
**

He was gone.

That was the only thing running through my head at the time. _He's gone, he's gone, he's gone_.

His blood, the red blood which had caused all this tragedy, ran in rivulets toward me from where he still hung, tears still streaming from his eyes even though he was gone.

Gone.

Eventually, my tears dried - not completely, but enough for me to see the man holding the bow aimed at me. He hesitated, and I could see the pity in his blue eyes.

I hated him.

He'd already been dead before the arrow hit him; even I could see that. But he just had to add the final blow, the final strike to the nail to hold in place the plaque that said “Culled for the color of his blood”.

Culled for the beautiful, terrible blood that now pooled at my feet, mixing with the green of my own tears. It was just the kind of thing he had fought to stop, and - obviously - failed miserably.

This man who now stood before me, who thought he could win my pity when he'd helped to strike down the one for whom I'd felt more feelings than the population of this wretched planet could even contemplate, this man had his arrow aimed at my head. But there was such pity in his eyes, that the moment he should have relesed the bowstring came and went. I glared at him, all the sorrow and anger and loss and fear practically burning through my eyes to set him ablaze, and still he hesitated.

“Go,” I thought I heard someone say, but it wasn't this man. It was the voice of a memory that should not have sounded as archaic as it did.

 _Run._

So I did. I tackled the man, knocking him down, and made my getaway, his blue blood still on my claws, and his red blood still staining my feet as I sprinted away, out of the ring of surprised spectators, almost too quickly for them to act. Almost.

I felt something graze my shoulder, and chanced a glance backward. The man I'd knocked over was staring up at the Grand Highblood, who now held the bow. His red eyes glowed menacingly, but I didn't care. I was too far away by now for him to be able to catch me, and now that I was clear of the grounds there was no one alive faster than I was.

I was injured, but not badly. I felt liquid running down my arm, but no pain. I was numb.

Because he was gone.

)O(

I made it to the caves in the desert days later; or, it felt like days. It was probably more akin to hours. These were the caves we had stayed in; The Dolorosa made the place feel more like home than a hive ever would have. We had a cave for sleeping, for eating, for meetings with the Resistance, and there were several dozen more that we didn't need.

Now I needed them. There was a story to be told, whether there were listeners or not; someone would find these caves sooner or later and, whether or not I was there to tell it, they would know what had transpired this day.

 **  
_my heart has wings  
when i sit at your knee and you read to me_   
**

**Author's Note:**

> I feel sorry for The Disciple.... T^T
> 
> Basically, continuing off my "Baker Baker" spiel, I'm writing another song-based fanfic. This one's canon, and based off my favorite childhood song: Read Me a Memory.
> 
> What? I thought it fit. It's a very nostalgic song, and the Disciple is a very nostalgic character.


End file.
